Office BluesMy sister works in an office full of women who are as lame as the crazy bitches I call my co-workers. I guess three people have developed kidney infections in the last several weeks, so one of these geniuses has determined that the kidney infections are being caused by dust on the toilet paper in the office. Do you love it? I should note that this wasn't the same woman who wondered out loud how one goes about depositing those giant, dry-erase board checks at the bank. I'm not making this up.
That takes me back to the days when I worked in-house and one of my, ahem, "colleagues" called in sick because she had run out of Prozac. Never mind that the pharmacy where she gets her prescriptions filled at almost no cost is the one in the hospital where she reports to work. During my tenure of working with this woman, she called in sick at various times for "anal pain," tripping over the dog, house fire, and the all-time classic, "my husband just killed someone." I. Kid. You. Not.
My point is this. When I start to worry that I'm spending too much time by myself, what with telecommuting and striving to leave my house as little as possible, I need only to remind myself of the typical interaction with the average citizen to realize my plan of limiting my interpersonal time to selected friends and family remains the best strategy. To that end, I just upped my Netflix subscription to two-at-a-time from one.